trying to make sense out of injustice

I feel these walls, a poem

I feel these walls
Stone fingers tracing my skin
Tugging on my coat
Flipping their nails at the brim of my cap

They whisper to me
Comforting me with silent coffee
Espresso moments of clarity
Gazing through the eyes of the carpet
Out through the windows they provide me
Threaded together through woollen eyelids
Straining to find myself in the fields of brown wool

I know the world is there
I can smell the trees
I can taste the mead
Christmas tree branches reach back forever